


dozens of red roses

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: “And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.
  “Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.” 
  The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to tumblr user [nnotcharlottee](http://nnotcharlottee.tumblr.com/) for prompting this as a birthday thing for tumblr user [shouheifukunaga](http://shouheifukunaga.tumblr.com/)!!! there is no fathomable universe in which this is not late, but many happy returns :)

“And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.

“Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.” 

The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost. 

When Akaashi peered up from 50 Great Tips for Hair Care, Kuroo’s grin had frozen politely on his face. Taketora’s mohawk from the third aisle had also stopped busying around. Fukunaga peeked up from the cash register. 

Rewind: the day was September 20th, Bokuto’s birthday. Akaashi: enduring the first year of dating Bokuto. Kuroo: worked at a store and had recommended two of his former teammates as fellow employees. Current situation: not very good. 

“It’s—that’s nice,” Kuroo said, helpfully, over the roar of Taketora’s laughter. 

“A dentist trip? That’s great, that’s really great! That’s exactly what that guy deserves!” Taketora slapped his knee with resounding force. 

“Oh, really?” Kuroo said, easy grin turning menacing. “Fukunaga’s birthday is almost in a week, right? You must have obviously gotten him something great, right?” Taketora’s laughter trailed off weakly while Fukunaga’s interested gaze turned towards him. 

“It’s a practical gift,” Akaashi said vaguely. “And something that won’t go unused in the future.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo said sympathetically, which irritated Akaashi more than Taketora’s chortling. “I’m sure Bokuto’s never… gotten that before.”

“It’s boring,” Taketora announced, leaning brotherly-like over a row of cartons. “Listen, if I had a girlfriend, I’d give her dozens of roses. I know the keyword is if!” The last defensive part was directed at Fukunaga’s knowing gaze. 

“But roses would wilt,” Akaashi said, “and we already have air freshener.”

“It’s more about the romance. If you give someone roses, you’re saying that you like them. You want to make them happy. That kind of thing,” Kuroo said, shrugging. “But don’t worry about that, Akaashi. As long as Bokuto gets cake, I’m sure he’ll be happy.” 

“I considered that,” Akaashi said, brow furrowing, “but that would be paradoxical to co-paying for a dentist trip. So I didn’t purchase any cake.”

Even Taketora had stopped laughing, a grave expression on his face. 

“Akaashi,” Kuroo said, “Do you hate Bokuto? Are you dating him for his money?”

“I don’t hate him,” Akaashi said, gripping the magazine in front of him like a shield. 

“Okay. Okay, first, don’t murder him. He's borrowed a lot of manga off me. Second, I mean, you’re not wrong. I’m a wise old man and I think your gift is a good idea. But it’s the first year of your relationship, Akaashi. Don’t you want to do make him happy?” Kuroo said, coaxing. If Akaashi remembered correctly, Kuroo was only a year older than him. But Akaashi’s frown deepened. Now that Kuroo mentioned it, he could already visualize Bokuto’s reactions. 

Option A: Bokuto threw a temper tantrum. Option B: Bokuto gouged himself on sweets in pouty rebellion. Option C: Bokuto broke up with him for clearly giving him a birthday gift that half-heartedly served a perfunctory purpose, saying clearly that Akaashi was the type of person who didn’t deserve to date other human beings because he was careless and cold to others, and Akaashi would be left with desolation and inconsolable gnawing guilt at his misguided actions to cause Bokuto and himself such pain and likely would later spend days watching infomercials in misery. 

Option B was the most troublesome.

“What,” Akaashi murmured, “should I do?” He wanted to see Bokuto smile upon opening his gift. Bokuto had his usual excited grins, but he had a special slow and warm grin, like honey dripping on a summer’s day, when he was especially happy. Akaashi fumbled with his fingers and thought he would have liked to see that smile and know that he had gotten him something good.

“O-kay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Kuroo said, clapping him on the shoulders. “What did you get him last year? Can’t have any repeats.” 

“He was busy last year,” Akaashi said. “He wanted to throw a surprise birthday party for Tsukishima. Konoha’s birthday was soon, too, so he had to prepare another surprise party.” While Konoha had been fully aware of his ‘surprise’ party from Bokuto’s clumsy efforts, Tsukishima had the most scathing look underneath the fluttering streamer that landed on his head. 

“Who cares! If I had a girlfriend—I know, Fukunaga!— _If_ I had a girlfriend, I would bring her to the movies. Big fancy dinner. Dozens of roses. Maybe scrapbook something from our loving quotes to each other. Bake some cookies. Matching T-shirts.” Taketora grinned, arms crossed over his chest and smugness affixed to his face. “End of the night, she’ll be saying, _you’re the best! I love you!_ ”

“So a birthday gift should be temporary in nature,” Akaashi said thoughtfully. He had never known. 

“No, no, no. No. Taketora’s got the right idea, maybe, but birthdays are just a chance to celebrate someone in your life. A good excuse to get them a gift.” Kuroo leaned over a row of soft drinks. “Let this old man help you out, Akaashi.” 

“You’re only a year older.”

In the end, Akaashi bought a box of small birthday candles, a few bags of healthier chips, and the magazine he had been browsing. The sun brimmed on the edge of the street and most useful stores had already closed. Even so, he considered visiting the stores where Bokuto had pointed at a useless item and pleaded for its purchase, followed by Akaashi’s suitable negation. A third object of owl paraphernalia seemed redundant, but this wasn’t about him. If anything, he was being more childish than Bokuto, and the thought irritated him to no bounds. 

“Finally! I’m going to take my break,” Taketora said, dusting off his hands. 

“Wait a bit, Fukunaga went on his break five minutes ago.” Kuroo turned from Taketora’s bewildered spinning around for their missing co-worker. “Let me know how it goes, Akaashi. Don’t worry about it so much. He’s head over heels for you, he’ll like your gifts.” 

“I hope so,” Akaashi murmured. At Kuroo’s silence, he glanced up quizzically. In the warm light of the sunset, Kuroo grinned at him with all the charm and nostalgia of his high school days. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” Kuroo had a teasing lilt, but he stuck his hands in the pockets of his apron and his shoulders relaxed back. 

“Yes,” Akaashi said. 

When he finally left, the time was more night than day. He stepped into the spoonfuls of light cast from the streetlamps. The store lit up brightly behind him, the clear figures of Kuroo and Taketora and their green aprons moving around the aisles. Off to the side, Fukunaga had a cat on his shoulder and another in his lap. Catching Akaashi’s backwards glance, he raised a hand in farewell. Akaashi nodded politely, and steeled his gaze forward. The plastic bag knocked against his leg.  


  


* * *

  
  
When he arrived at their apartment, he could see Bokuto had caught a cab home from the airport. His luggage had been tossed perilously aside, familiar and faded owl stickers staring up at him. A trail of small and manageable destruction lead Akaashi to their small living room quarters, where the television hummed in some distant love drama and Bokuto snored away on the couch. Bokuto always did succumb easily to jet lag, and probably had slept for most of the day. Akaashi had been at work when he returned. He was a little relieved at not seeing Bokuto earlier, and therefore not disappointing him with his lukewarm gift. 

The next morning, he would simply have to sneak out of the house and purchase roses, cakes, and some sort of owl figurine to appease Bokuto on his belated birthday. Bokuto would never know about his shortcomings.

Akaashi turned off the television and pulled the throw blanket up to Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto mumbled and twisted around, hair mussing on the arm of the couch. Akaashi pulled away the remote control from his hand and sat on the short coffee table. Bokuto’s face was squashed against the couch, leaving faint fabric imprints on his cheek. Akaashi brushed the hair from his face, lingering around his ear.

Bokuto’s eyes shot open.

Akaashi resisted the urge to punch him in a fight-or-flight instinct.

“Oh,” Bokuto mumbled, voice husky with sleep, “I wanted to stay up for you.” 

“It’s fine. You should change into your pajamas and go to bed.” 

“No, no, I’m awake.” Bokuto rubbed his eyes sleepily, swaying even when he sat up. His eyelids flickered downwards, starting awake in small jolts. He was still wearing his sports jacket, the tag with their phone number flipped out from his collar. 

Akaashi wanted to make Bokuto happy.

It wasn’t completely Kuroo and Taketora that irritated him, but his own actions. He had been too busy writing phone numbers on Bokuto’s luggage to truly consider his feelings. What scared him the most about the birthday would be Bokuto’s visible disappointment in him. He could handle the tantrum and the petulant acts, but his stomach dropped when he thought of Bokuto staring at him with slight confusion in his eyes, like Akaashi couldn’t have possibly have done something this wrong, and then, perhaps, the small “oh” that would follow. 

In the comfortable silence, with the night enveloping their apartment, he thought he knew what Taketora had been saying. He wanted to give Bokuto a dozen of red roses and a cake lit by overwhelming candles, and he wanted to do it for him. 

“Did you have a nice birthday?” he asked softly, threading his fingers together. 

“I’m awake,” Bokuto mumbled. “Yeah… It’s not my birthday, though.”

“Today is the 20th of September.”

“Oh.” Bokuto rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, drooping forward. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and Akaashi resisted the urge to toss him over the couch in a fight-or-flight instinct. 

“Akaashi! It’s my birthday!” Bokuto grasped around the coffee table in apparently some groggy attempt to find his cell phone. He picked up the remote control and squinted at it suspiciously in the dark. 

“I know. Happy birthday, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto blinked, and then grinned, slow and warm. 

“Thanks, Akaashi! You’re the best.” 

For some reason, Akaashi thought things would be fine. 

He sat with his hands in his lap while Bokuto finally found his phone and mumbled happy noises at the birthday messages. The blinding square light reflected off his wrinkled shirt and cast a throbbing light over the inside of his wrists. Akaashi leaned forward until his knees touched the cushions of the couch, the springs creaking under the new weight.

“I have a present for you.”

“Oh, yeah! Presents! What’d you get me?”

“I’ll help pay for your next dentist visit.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said seriously. “That’s a really boring gift.”

“It’s useful and generous. Or would you rather I give you something else?” Akaashi knew Bokuto couldn’t see him smiling in the dark, so he smiled.

“No! You can’t take it back, Akaashi, because it’s mine now,” Bokuto said, leaning back onto the couch. “But for your birthday, this old man is gonna get you something fun.”

“You’re only one year older.” 

“Hey, let’s go buy a cake tomorrow!”

“What flavor would you like?”

“Big!”

Bokuto rambled about big cakes, his day, his plans, the lumpiness of the couch, and the heart-pounding drama he had been watching before he had fallen asleep. When the clock finally turned to midnight and the birthday passed, Bokuto’s grip on his hand remained steady and warm.


End file.
